After the Storm
by seven dragons
Summary: This is my first attempt at fanfic, or any fic for that matter. This story picks up immediately after Season 4, Episode 8 and addresses Jean's dilemma and how they might resume their normal lives. I intended to write a few romantic scenes but somehow the story became more serious. I am just going to publish it and see how it goes. Feedback welcome!
"Jean," Dr. Lucien Blake said breathlessly. He took two steps toward an apprehensive Jean and stood to face her. "There's something I need to ask you." Lucien managed a weak smile as he tried to salvage some hope from a week that nearly saw him lose everything: his family, his freedom, and the woman he loved.

Jean stared at him in exasperation. Still married, with his wife barely on her way out of town, this was not the time. "Lucien, don't. You're not free to marry." She turned and went into the house before Lucien could respond and expose their situation to the whole neighborhood. Lucien followed her inside and persisted, "Jean I love you, and I am going to marry you."

Jean could see that there was going to be no reasoning with him. Exhausted and numb from the events of the previous week, she could not think straight. "Lucien, I haven't slept in a week and you've just got out of jail. Can we discuss this tomorrow?"

Lucien gave her a greatful look. "Yes, of course." Jean would still be there in the morning. There would be a tomorrow. For now, that would be enough.

* * *

The next morning, when Jean found Lucien sleeping on the couch in the living room, she was not suprised. He was prone to drinking late at night and when he did, he often fell asleep wherever he happened to be. He could not be blamed for drinking too much last night. She made him breakfast and tried her best to be too busy to discuss the difficult situation between them. She went to bed early that night, just to avoid him, but couldn't sleep. She never really believed in their happiness. She needed his love more than she had cared to admit to herself, even after returning to Ballarat. But love stories never began or ended with widowed farm wives. The night he proposed felt like a dream. When it became a nightmare, she wasn't all that surprised. When Mei Lin arrived, events moved so fast that Jean could not even make arrangements to leave, so she took refuge in what she knew best. She took care of Lucien, of Mei Lin, of his home and business as best she could. Jean had tried to distance herself from Lucien, to prepare herself for the inevitable. Instead of turning to his wife for comfort, Lucien depended on her support even more. Instead of Jean leaving, Mei Lin did, and left them standing there, staring at each other in the driveway. Now, Lucien's declarations of love felt like mockery. She didn't doubt that he loved her. But Lucien rarely considered the consequences of his actions. She felt like a foolish school girl for ever dreaming of them together. She knew she aught to return to Adelaide. Her life might be lonely there for a while but it would be a fresh start, free from all the public and private reminders of what she had lost. But even as she considered the idea she found the thought of leaving Lucien unbearable.

The next morning she was too distracted to notice that Lucien had slept on the couch again. She did every possible errand she could think of, and made an excuse for a late dinner to make sure Charlie was there, then headed to bed early before Lucien could get her alone to talk. She could neither sleep nor concentrate on the problem at hand. Well past midnight, she decided to go downstairs and make herself a cup of tea.

She found Lucien on the couch again, head in hands. "Lucien, are you all right?" Jean asked softly.

"Yes, I'm fine." Jean could tell be the stricken look on his face that he wasn't. She thought even in the darkness she could see him shaking.

"It's late, why don't you go to bed?"

He didn't respond, staring into the dark room. Jean sat down on the couch next to him and waited a long time for him to speak. His voice was unsteady. "When I was at Changi, I was once locked in a small box for 40 days for stealing a can of pineapple." Jean gasped audibly.

Lucien continued, "I thought I'd finally left that behind me. But being back in prison, it just..." Lucien looked down as he tried to fight back tears. "I know it's childish, but I can't bear being in that small, dark room right now. I just can't. I don't want to be in there alone."

Jean stared at him, barely more than an outline in the darkness, and suddenly felt as if their lives had crystallized into something bright and clear. Their past together had been a series of missed opportunities, punctuated by only a few days of happiness. Despite everything they had been through together, she held little hope for their future. She had nothing left to lose. She leaned toward him and took his hand, "You won't be."

Jean led Lucien into his bedroom and quietly shut the door behind him. For a moment she just stood there holding his hand, looking up at him. Lucien did not seem to fully understand what was happening. He just stared at her. Jean reached up and pulled his head down, pressing his lips against hers. "Jean...I...are you sure this is what you want?" Jean reached up and smoothed a hand over his bearded cheek. She tried to sound more sure than she was. "Yes," and this time Lucien didn't hesitate. He lowered his head and kissed her hard, and Jean returned the kiss in kind. Lucien entwined one hand in the curls at the base of her neck and slid the other down over her waist. "Oh Jean, sweet Jean," he sighed breathlessly, and pulled her close to him in the darkness.

It was not a romantic night. At least, it was not the romantic one Lucien had always looked forward to. Nor was it the hopelessly awkward night that Jean had feared, with the inevitable missteps of two people who had been out of practice for so long. It was desperate. The act of two people hungry for each other and starved too long of human affection. It was passionate and irrational, and when Lucien awoke in the morning, he was alone. Jean had slipped out of the room sometime before sunrise.

They never discussed what happened that night. There could be dire consequences for Jean's reputation, Lucien's standing in the community, and possibly even legal repercussions if Lucien tried to divorce Mei Lin. Nor did they try and work out what it meant for their future. Lucien did not bring up the marriage proposal again. It made no sense for them to discuss it now. They both knew that from that day forth, Lucien and Jean would be lovers.

* * *

The proceeding months passed mostly normally. Lucien saw patients and attended on police cases. He made several trips to Melbourne to meet with a lawyer but said nothing about it, not even to Jean. It would take months or years to get a divorce and he did not want to give her false hopes. He had caused her so much pain on that account already. Instead Lucien said he had been invited to consult with the police surgeon there on new forensics procedures. He and Jean were a happy couple at home but scrupulously reserved in public. Even the normally impulsive Lucien understood what the stakes were if their secret were made public, and he was keenly aware that Jean would take the brunt of Ballarat's self-righteous wrath. They were so formal in public that those who had gossiped needlessly before now assumed that Mei Lin's appearance had permanently cooled their relationship. Agnes Clesby, always blunt and direct, used the end of a doctor's appointment to point out to Lucien what a good woman Jean was, how good she had been for him, and what a pity it was that with Mei Lin gone Lucien had no one to look after him. Lucien nodded politely and changed the subject.

At home, things returned to the way they had been before, except the occasional times Lucien could coax Jean into his bed. She always slipped out of the room before dawn to avoid being seen by Charlie, or possibly just to avoid her own conscience. Sometimes Lucien heard her stirring as she got up to put on her bathrobe, or whatever she had been wearing the night before. Lucien would wrap his arms around her thin waist and gently guide her back towards the bed. She never objected. Then they would lie in bed, leisurely exploring each other's bodies. Limbs entwined, they would drowse together until well after sunrise.

If Charlie knew or guessed he never said anything. He did not comment on the occasional missed breakfast. As time went on they would regularly host Rose, Frank, and Alice. Matthew became a regular visitor again as he grew stronger. Frank ordered Lucien to learn how to play golf "for the benefit of the police force." Lucien knew it was to give Frank something to do outside the race track and was happy to oblige him. Lucien and Jean were more open and relaxed with their friends at home but they otherwise limited their affection. Adulterers with noble intentions were still adulterers, and it would have been unfair and risky to burden even their closest friends with their secret.

* * *

The case was the worst of Lucien's career. Two young girls, sexually abused, then mutilated and left for dead. Their father was suspect, as were his brothers, but the family closed ranks to protect them. Lucien suspected they were all involved. A fragment of burned film found in the trash indicated they might have taped the event. Edward Tynneman was friends with one of brothers and his name kept showing up at odd times. Lucien assumed the worst, which lead to a pitched battle with Edward's father. This only increased pressure on the police to make an arrest, someone who would deflect attention from the town benefactor. The Courier published stories questioning the competency of the police force, naming Frank and Lucien specifically. The citizens of Ballarat were screaming for blood.

Lucien was gone for days at a time. The little time he was at home he was impossible to deal with. He was rarely sober. When he was, he refused to discuss the details of the case with Jean, and snapped at her for asking the simplest questions. She used to come by the police station with sandwiches as an excuse to check up on him. Now she just left him alone. Throughout the case Lucien's mind was in turmoil. He saw his orphaned daughter bearing the same scars that crossed Mei Lin's back. He saw both their bodies lying in a pile with the delicate corpses of the young Ballarat girls. He could not bring them justice any more than he could save his own family. They were all victims of Lucien's inadequacy. He'd failed them all.

Lucien walked in the door just after midnight. Superintendent Frank Carlyle had seen that his mental state was fast deteriorating and he was of no use on the case. He ordered Lucien home to rest. Lucien walked straight into his study and pulled out a bottle. His head was full of bloody fragments - clues in the case, ghosts from the past, images of young torn up bodies in Ballarat and in Singapore. He spent the next several hours trying to drink the images away, turning the same pieces of evidence over and over until they were an incomprehensible blur along with the rest of his thoughts. Eventually he got up and stumbled into the bedroom. He did not bother to turn on the light, he would just lie down long enough to sleep it off and go back to the station. As he pulled the door close behind him Lucien sensed he was not alone. He tensed up and his mind sharpened immediately. Who had gotten into his room? Hannam? Sullivan? A suspect in the case? He slowly turned to face the open room, and his eyes fell to a figure in the bed, dark curls spread over the pillow. Jean was fast asleep.

Lucien stared and wondered how long she had been there. She may have slipped in when she heard him come home, or she could have been waiting every night for him for days. He felt relief to see her and a profound sense of remorse. He gathered the presence of mind to undress and throw on some night clothes and slid carefully into bed. Jean never woke up. Sensing his presence she rolled over and rested her head on Lucien's shoulder. Draping her arm across his chest, Jean sighed contentedly. Lucien reached up and covered her hand with his. Unable to stop the tears that were now flowing, he turned his head away so as not to wake her, but never let go of Jean's hand.

Every night after that Jean was in his bed waiting. Usually asleep long before him, Jean would roll over and snuggle into his side, her dark hair falling on his shoulder and her fine, pale arm resting on his chest. Lucien barely slept those first few nights. He would lie awake, his heart pounding from exhilaration, afraid to fall asleep and miss a single minute. While Jean was no stranger to his body or his bed, this was an entirely new experience. Lucien felt for the first time, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Jean belonged to him.

The case dragged on, but eventually an arrest was made. It took a long time for Lucien to regain his jovial demeanor. He would spend long nights in his office, drinking and brooding over recent events. He saw patients but took little of his usual joy in seeing familiar faces. Jean mostly left him alone at first and turned a blind eye to his erratic behavior, but eventually started insisting that he rejoin the world. She invited their friends over and made it clear that he would be polite and sociable. She made him take Frank and Matthew to the Colonist's Club. Lucien made several more trips to Melbourne, always in secret. If Jean suspected something she said nothing. She was used to his secrets. In the meantime, Lucien was becoming increasingly discontented with their situation. He had everything a man could want at home, but was forced to treat Jean like he barely knew her in public. They argued about it several times.

"I'm tired of you living in the shadows, Jean. This has gone on too long. I want everyone to see you by my side."

Jean had long gotten tired of his foolish hopes. She was greatful for what they had, but asking her to sacrifice her reputation was a bridge too far. "I'm not going to be paraded about as your mistress! Yes," she cut him off before he could object to the word. "I've said it. Your mistress. I don't like it any more than you do, but that is how things are." Jean turned away so he couldn't see her tear up. The sound of her own words stung her. After all these months, a part of her was still ashamed, and she did not want him to know that.

But Lucien just lowered his head, crestfallen. She was right, of course. She usually was. With nothing left to say, he retreated to his office and poured himself a drink.

But at the end of the day, no matter what transpired or how late the hour, no matter how much whiskey he had consumed, Jean was waiting for him. Lucien would be lulled to sleep by the intoxicating smell of Jean's hair and the warmth by his side. He started to find himself passing on one last late night glass of whiskey, there was a far better consolation just down the hall. Jean, a natural early riser, found that there was no need to sneak out of his room in the dead of night as she was the first one up in the mornings anyhow. The few times that Charlie's schedule made this uncertain, she would wake Lucien up and make him stand lookout. His amusement with acting like a naughty teenager in his own home usually blunted his displeasure at being woken up so early.

* * *

Jean woke up before dawn, as usual, and returned to her room. She was half way through dressing before she realized the source of the odd feeling she had woken up with. On her left hand was a magnificent diamond ring set in gold - Genevieve Blake's engagement ring. Lucien had somehow slipped it on in the night. Jean was cross. They were as close as they would ever come to a normal life, and he was teasing her with his foolish dreams. It had to stop. She decided to keep the ring on long enough to confront him. By the time Lucien came to the kitchen for breakfast Jean was positively irate.

"Just what do you think is the meaning of this?" Jean held up her hand, angrily. Lucien was taken aback.

"I thought you'd be happy. I'd hoped you'd be proud to wear it."

Jean suddenly realized the folly of everything she had done the last few months. Lucien wasn't the only one who had been selling false hope. "Lucien you are a married man. No matter how happy we are together, that isn't going to change. I can't be seen about town announcing myself as your mistress!"

Jean went to take the ring off but before she could, Lucien took both her hands in his. He paused for a moment, and Jean saw that he had that half grin on his face that he only wore in her presence, which just annoyed her more. When he finally spoke his voice was breathless. "Actually Jean, Mei Lin agreed to a divorce. It was made final in Melbourne a week ago."

Jean's anger softened. She looked into his clear blue eyes as she tried to absorb the news. "So, what you're saying is..." Jean struggled to find the right words. "You're a bachelor?"

Lucien smiled gently. Jean thought he might have even been blushing a little. "Well not exactly. I'm engaged to be married. And you're going to be my wife."

Jean put her hands on her hips and feigned annoyance. "And don't I get a say in this?"

Lucien stepped forward and pulled Jean into his arms. He looked down at her, grinning now with his usual bravado.

"No, you don't."


End file.
